Language of Love
by Don't Mess With Aria
Summary: Shepard's mother Hannah has some trouble with her translator.


Hannah Shepard ducked through the crowds at the Citadel. She hated the place. She liked the tight closeness of her ship, where she recognized everyone by at least sight and usually name. Not like here. Every face a stranger, and almost every one so very alien to her. It would take some getting used to, especially learning to deal with the oversized, spiky turians as colleagues.

"Mr. Shepard?" her translator asked. A salarian shopkeep had taken advantage of her slowing steps to try to sell her something. "The number of items that you want to buy?" he asked.

"What? Oh, this damn thing." She slapped at her omni-tool, knowing that this wouldn't actually fix the translation. She had just had it looked at the other day, by that turian fellow. What was his name…? Turian names were so difficult to remember.

_Especially when they may or may not be translated properly in the first place_, she thought wryly. She looked up at the salarian and shrugged, indicating her omni-tool. He nodded cheerfully and waved her off. Well, that was something. You could get out of very quick sales pitches if your translator was broken.

_I'll have to remember that one. Oh, wait, is that him?_ She spotted a turian with familiar markings at a café across the thoroughfare, and made her way over to him.

"Excuse me, but are you the gentleman I spoke to about this yesterday?"

#

Sparatus looked up at the petite human approaching him. What did it want? It seemed that every human who had made it to this station wanted something, they didn't care whether you were the guy for that, and they all seemed so _shrill._

"I'm sorry, but you are a gentleman, I do it yesterday?"

Well, that was a new one. It must be having- no, this one was a she, wasn't it?- problems with her translator.

"I'm sorry. Wrong guy," he told her, turning back to his meal.

_Well, at least that one isn't shrill. Quite a pleasant voice, actually, for a human._

#

"Pardon," the turian said, "selecting of the wrong person."

_Well, great. I don't even know the guy's name, and I won't get anywhere with this thing._

"Do you happen to know the gentleman who works with translator issues? He's about your height, and he has the same colony markings."

#

"Happens that you know Knight problems to solve? Its length is a trademark belonging to the same group."

Sparatus choked on a piece of meat and decided to put his kebab down. Like most humans, this one wasn't going to give up. So like most humans, she was now fair game for a bit of fun.

"Yes, the Knight. He stays at my cabin on the weekends. Would you care to meet him?"

#

"Yes, gentleman. He continues in his hut on the weekends. You'll have to meet up with him?"

"Well, this isn't right," Hannah muttered to herself. The translator dutifully mangled it for her: "It is not only."

"In my colony I jacket is one of the largest," the turian told her.

"Sorry, but this is silly problems."

"Color your bangs are very attractive to you."

"I am sorry, but I have to interrupt you. I my way."

"Cross isn't half-bad, either." When the turian said this, Hannah finally caught the tension in his mandibles; he was laughing his ass off at her.

_Two can play that game, then._

#

"Love of my life," her translator told him, "I would like to Boogie."

"I would like to apologize to me?" Sparatus was startled. The human no longer looked confused, but he couldn't read her expression at all. Was she amused, or predatory? So hard to tell with these things.

"I don't do funky yet."

_Ah, I see. She's trying to play my game._ Sparatus opened his mouth to reply, when her translator hit the final blow.

#

"Voulez-vous coucher avec-moi, ce soir?" Hannah was getting tired of this game, and about to leave, but the stunned look on the turian's face told her the thing might have actually translated something correctly.

_It's a song! It was just a joke!_ Hannah shouted through a dozen explanations in her head, none of them making it to her lips.

Finally the turian cleared his throat, took a drink, and gave his answer to the damnable translator.

"I think I would rather buy you dinner first."

* * *

AN: This was for a prompt at the kinkmeme. Special thanks to BadTranslator, who helped me get the mistranslations just right. Here are the unmangled bits of conversation, if anyone's interested:

S: My crest is the largest in my whole colony.

H: I'm sorry, I'm having trouble with this stupid thing.

S: Your fringe is quite an attractive color, for your species.

H: Pardon me for having bothered you. I'll be on my way.

S: Your waist isn't half bad, either.

H: I like the night life. I like to boogie.

S: I beg your pardon?

H: Won't you take me to Funky town?

H: Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir? *Would you like to go to bed with me tonight?


End file.
